


fooled around and fell in love

by tachycardia



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Domestic, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-14
Updated: 2014-10-14
Packaged: 2018-02-21 04:28:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,717
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2454722
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tachycardia/pseuds/tachycardia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I have a proposal - a proposition,” Liam corrects quickly. “For you.”</p><p>Liam and Zayn pretend to be engaged.</p>
            </blockquote>





	fooled around and fell in love

**Author's Note:**

> _love's got a hold on me - it's got a hold on me now,_  
>  _i can't let go of you baby,_  
>  _i fooled around and fell in love_  
>  \- elvis bishop
> 
> Shoutout again to Nav / dupattazayn on tumblr, who was encouraging and lovely even when this fic was much shorter and mostly rubbish two months ago, which shows you how kind and tolerant she is. 
> 
> Don't tell me the law doesn't work this way!

Liam is six years old when he’s first dragged along to one of his father’s work parties - the babysitter backs out at the last minute, his sisters are both still at school, and his parents decide they have no choice. He’s wearing the nicest shirt and trousers he has, and his hair is about as neat as anyone can ever make it. 

No one pays attention to him at all, and his parents probably know he won’t cause any trouble, so he sneaks away and finds himself on the second floor of the house. The lights here have been dimmed, but the house doesn’t look as intimidating as it looked downstairs - it looks recognisable, and cosy, and touchable, like a place where kids live. He walks past the door with the flower carvings, the door with flower stickers, the room with the Powerpuff Girl stickers, and then he finds, at the very corner, a door that has a lifesized mural of Iron Man.

Inside there’s a boy curled on the floor, a pillow under his head and a book in his hand. He jolts up when Liam enters and then just stares at him, blinking confusedly.

“Hi,” Liam says nervously. “Iron Man?” He hopes he doesn’t sound like he’s making fun of him.

The boy still looks a little wary but his eyes light up, and he smiles, small but warm. “My father drew it for me. Isn’t it sick?”

“Sick,” Liam echoes, slightly dazed. He’s never before said that word to mean a good thing in his life.

“I’m Zayn?” the boy says, and then offers, soft in a way that Liam recognises as careful, “Do you want to sit down?”

Liam drops to the floor and moves up to him. “I’m Liam,” he says, planting himself so he’s sitting shoulder to shoulder with Zayn. He turns to grin at him. Zayn grins widely back.

* * *

On Tuesdays and Fridays, Liam has a standing lunch date. He arrives at the restaurant across from his office building earlier than usual, and sits and stares, lost in thought.

Zayn arrives in a t-shirt and jeans, and he looks perfect, as he always does, instead of underdressed, which is the only reason Liam’s never told him off for not trying to match Liam’s workwear.

Zayn gently nudges Liam to attention with his fist, his thumb grazing lightly against Liam’s cheek. “Hi, Li.”

Liam smiles at him, feeling far too tired for the second day of the week. “How’s your day so far?”

“Bit all right,” Zayn says. “Stuck on re-lettering the same comic for the third time.”

Liam makes a face in sympathy.

“Julian and I were hashing out a fantastic new story, though,” Zayn says, grinning at him. “I’ll show you if you tell me what’s wrong.”

Liam’s startled into a laugh. “I’ll tell you after your order your lunch,” he promises in return, and works on prying out details on what Zayn’s been planning instead.

There are three big things Liam considered before he decided to bring Zayn into this plan:

Zayn needs a place. His landlord made an abrupt decision to sell his building to a commercial property owner, and Zayn has to clear out of his apartment in three weeks. Liam would offer the spare room in his own place, only it’s tiny, and he knows Zayn needs his space, somewhere he can pull away and recharge a little bit.

Zayn would like the extra money. He and a couple of his friends at work have been working for years on setting up a graphic novel company, at least four different series’ full runs planned and storyboarded. Earlier in the year they’d found a large publishing company willing to give them an imprint under their name and discounted printing prices, as long as they brought some money to it on their own. From what Liam’s gathered, it’s been exhausting getting these things together, but Zayn’s not lost his excitement for the idea over the years, happy to put his business degree (which he’d thought of as a waste) and his creative arts minor to use on something he loves.

And the most important thing - Liam loves Zayn. If this happens, if they do this, it’s not going to be a stretch to treat him with the love he’s always had for him. And he knows Zayn loves him too. When they have to break this off eventually, they’re going to love each other still. That’s not going to be an issue.

They’re mostly done eating by the time Liam feels ready to ask. He puts down his chopsticks and Zayn pushes his bowl away a little in return, giving Liam his full attention.

“Um,” Liam says, flushing. “I have a proposal - a proposition,” he corrects quickly. “For you.”

“All right,” Zayn says, raising an eyebrow.

“How’s finding a new place going?”

Zayn rolls his eyes. “ _You_ try finding a decent place on such short notice.”

One down. “Still saving up for the company?” Liam asks.

“We’re only a few thousand away.” Zayn smiles at him. “I think we’ll be good to go in a year.”

There’s one more thing, the only real flaw in his plan, the one that gives him most pause: “And - anything romantic happening?”

Zayn scrunches his face up, clearly perplexed at the line of questioning even as he humours him. “Nobody, no. Nothing for a while.”

“Okay,” Liam says. “Okay.” He wipes his hand with a paper napkin from the table, just needing something to do. “So. Uncle James bequeathed most of his estate and money to me.”

“That’s so nice of him,” Zayn says, smiling at him through the trace of confusion on his face. “I told you he loved you.”

“My dad wants me to put most of it in the company. I want to put it into the company. We need it,” he says, words rushing together.

Zayn nods, privy to the kind of things he’s been putting up with at Troy. “Right, but let me guess. There’s a clause.”

“A marriage clause,” Liam says.

Zayn stares at him, and Liam watches it dawn on him.

“Liam.”

“The lawyer says there’s room for allowing an engagement if not full-out marriage, if he doesn’t suspect foul business and if other people can back it up. If we don’t have anything within the next three months the money will probably go to my uncle’s cousin’s cousin, or something, so we need to - ”

“Liam,” he repeats.

Liam stops talking immediately.

“You want us to get married?” Zayn says.

“Engaged,” Liam corrects. Zayn narrows his eyes at him and Liam shakes his head. “We get two houses, one in the suburbs here, which both of us can use. The money I get, I can cover the costs of what’s left for your company. I can sell my flat and use that and the rest of what I get to invest in Troy - I already have plans - ”

“But marriage,” Zayn interrupts again, his voice sharpening.

Liam purses his lips and stays silent, knowing Zayn needs a little time to process. When the waitress comes back he asks for two cups of tea to take away and the bill.

Zayn is sitting still, brow furrowed in thought. When he finally looks up again, face still a little shuttered, Liam takes it as his cue to continue.

“Look, I’m only asking you because. This could work for us so well,” Liam says.

Zayn takes a deep breath. “I know.”

“And there’s no one I’d rather do this with.”

Zayn leans back in his chair and scrubs at his face with his hands. When he pulls his hands away he’s smiling a little, and Liam relaxes almost immediately. It’s not a full smile, and it’s tinged with something a little off-colour, but it’s a smile. It means that even if he hasn’t agreed yet, he’s not holding anything against him for even suggesting it to him, which Liam had estimated would be what Zayn would be likeliest to hold against him.

“Yeah,” Zayn says, and sighs.

Liam reaches for his hand across the table and squeezes it.

Zayn looks at their hands for a second, and then uses Liam’s hand to pull himself closer to him, hunching forward in a way that means he’s probably half-off his seat.

“What you should do,” he says. “Tell you father you’ve got a way out, that you love someone - ” he coughs. “ - but you’ll only do it if he lets you out of the sound engineering department.”

Liam frowns at him.

“I’ll only do it if you give him this condition,” Zayn bargains, and continues over Liam’s protest. “You know you deserve to get more to do at your company, like - I _know_ how hard you work, you’re better than two levels up from an intern.”

“I don’t disagree, but,” Liam trails off. He knows his father loves him, but he also knows he’s not been entirely fair in the way he’s dealt with Liam since he was promoted to CEO. Talking about it would mean acknowledging it, though, and he doesn’t really want his father to tell him he’s been left where he is for a reason.

“Don’t be silly,” Zayn chides him, as if he knows exactly what Liam’s thinking. “The kind of work you’ve been doing - Abbu agrees with me, and he doesn’t even work with you.”

Quietly pleased, trying to hide his smile, Liam lifts the hand he’s holding and brushes a kiss against Zayn’s knuckles. It feels like Zayn jumps a little in response, but when he glances up Zayn’s only looking at him calmly.

Zayn squeezes his hand. “I’m going to think about this. You should too.”

Liam nods at him and lets go. “Friday?”

“Friday,” Zayn says, and, as he gets up, taps Liam on the cheek as he did when he entered.

Liam watches him leave, subconsciously curling his hand into a fist.

* * *

When they meet for lunch that Friday Zayn looks as amused and resigned as he imagines he himself looks, too. 

“You’ll take the money?” Liam says.

“If you’ll give your father your terms,” Zayn returns.

“Yes,” they say together, and then they start to laugh. Liam gets up from his side of the booth and slides in next to Zayn, and they press together.

He wasn’t lying when he said there’s no one he’d rather do this with. It’s only cemented over the hour they spend together that afternoon, and the night they spend at Liam’s sorting out the details. They’ll do this for two years - long enough to satisfy, but also long enough that it makes sense that they never get married. They were dating already, but the will gave them the push to move forward. They’d have kissed after dinner once, and the rest is history, etc.

The thing he remembers most from that weekend, the thing that makes him the most certain about the whole plan, is how much they laugh.

* * *

The next morning they go to Liam’s parents’. His mother is delighted to see Zayn, carting him off to the kitchen first, but his father is clearly confused as both of them trail behind them.

“You said you were with someone?” he asks, sitting down at the little table in the kitchen.

“I mean. Yes,” Liam says, and as Zayn comes back to sit down next to him, he adds, “You’re looking at him.”

“What was that?” Liam’s mother asks, giving them all a glass of juice as she sits down, too.

Liam reaches over and takes Zayn’s hand. “We’ve been dating, and - ”

“Oh,” his mother says faintly.

“It’s been a year,” Zayn says. They’d decided he would do most of the talking, because Liam is terrible at lying to his parents. “We decided we were into each other and we kind of wanted to see where things would go?”

His mother looks them over just as Liam pulls Zayn closer in support.

“We didn’t want to tell anyone, because if things didn’t work out we didn’t want it to affect our friends. And we wanted to keep it to ourselves a while. But this feels - permanent,” Zayn says, glancing at Liam with a tiny, knowing smile. “The will just helped us along.”

Liam nods. His parents are silent, watching them, still looking a little bewildered.

“I know it seems convenient,” Zayn adds, quickly, “If you have any concerns - I mean, I can sign a prenup - ”

“Oh, nonsense, it’s nothing like that,” Liam’s mother says immediately, and smiles at him.

Zayn smiles back, and Liam knows even his father can see the way his shoulders loosen in relief - Zayn’s never said it out loud, but Liam knows that the Paynes’ good opinion has always mattered to him a little more than most people’s.

“Why didn’t you tell us before?” his father says finally.

Liam shrugs. “Do you remember when I told you I had a boyfriend in college? When we broke up before winter break I thought - I got the feeling you were relieved.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Zayn snapping his head around to face him. He watches his parents instead, both of whom look sheepish, an implicit confirmation.

“I was hoping that even though I could go either way, I’d get married to a woman, just so it would be easier for you and me,” Liam says. It’s all true - it’s the reason he never told them about the one other man he dated right after graduating. Only the next part is not. “But then there was Zayn.”

Liam puts his arm around Zayn’s shoulders and it’s only when they settle into each other that he realises Zayn reaches for his waist at the same time - the action came so easily to them. He starts to grin, increasingly confident in their plan, confident they can pull this off.

His mother sucks in a slightly choked breath. “ _Boys_ ,” she says. “Oh, boys.” And then she smiles at them, her eyes bright.

Mission accomplished.

He follows his father out into the back garden with the guise of helping him take out the trash, and he tells him what Zayn suggested as a condition. He agrees almost immediately.

“You’ve always deserved it, I’ve honestly only been waiting for you to ask,” he says, smiling wryly. “Thank goodness Zayn gave you a kick in the arse.”

“Oh,” Liam says, blinking. “I’d thought - ”

“I know what you thought.” His father grins at him warmly, and chucks him lightly under his chin. “You’re the hardest worker I know, kid. You should ask for the things you think you deserve.”

Liam smiles, a little overcome. “Okay.”

“So,” his father says. “Zayn, eh?”

Liam shrugs, opening the bin outside for his dad to toss the bag in. “He’s my best friend.”

“Yeah,” his father says. When Liam turns to look at him as they start walking back, he’s staring at his own wedding band, the look on his face tender. “Yeah.”

As they return, his mother’s slipping into the chair next to Zayn, the table cleared.

“I suppose,” his mother says, “the last minute nature of this means my son didn’t get you a ring?”

“Hey,” Liam says, self-conscious. His father thumps him on the back, raising his eyebrows at him in empathy, and leaves for the living room. Zayn grins smugly at him for a second before turning back to Liam’s mother, the picture of innocence.

“I’m sure you don’t want money spent on you,” she says, ignoring her son as she smiles at his - fiancé, “but there’ll be something of my father’s I can find you.”

“That - ” Zayn pauses. “That’s a good idea, actually. There’s so much of my grandparents’ things that my mum’s keeping for my sisters, I’m sure there’s something that would look great on Liam.”

She pats his cheek approvingly, and in weird synchronicity, both of them turn to smile at Liam.

“Go talk to your father, Liam,” she says, throwing an arm over Zayn’s shoulder. It looks strange against his broad shoulders, and she’s clearly leaning up a little to accommodate his height, but he leans in immediately, not missing a beat, clearly not thinking twice.

He turns and leaves the room with a beleaguered sigh, trying not to pay too much attention to the way they start whispering. When they laugh behind him, he can’t help but smile. This is going to be painless.

* * *

On Wednesday night they meet the guys for drinks. It takes them a good hour to realise there’s an expensive-looking ring on Zayn’s finger, the one that stands out from the usual cheap, charmingly chunky-looking things he usually wears. 

Niall grabs his hand first and peers at it. “That is an engagement ring,” he pronounces. 

“Right,” Zayn says, pulling his hand back and crossing his arms. “See. I’m engaged.”

The other three boys fall silent. “What?” Louis says, frowning at him. 

“We’re engaged,” Zayn says blankly.

“Who’s we, mate?” Harry says, concerned. He bats at Zayn’s arms until Zayn unfolds them and lets him look at his left hand again.

Zayn stays silent, staring expectantly at Liam. They’ve been undecided about whether to tell them the truth, having had at least two arguments about it before dropping it to move on to easier things, and even now their stance on it is wavering.

Liam sidles him closer to him, throwing his arm around Zayn’s shoulders, and Niall helps them decide.

“Liam,” Niall says slowly, his eyes narrowing, and then he starts to laugh. “All right. Sure.”

Liam can feel the way the tension in both Zayn and him snaps; they slouch a little. This makes it easier.

Liam tells them the story - the will, the house, the money. Zayn starts to offer them their fictional backstory, but he’s interrupted quickly.

“No, it doesn’t make sense that you wouldn’t tell us because of _friendship_ ,” Louis says. “We knew about Niall and that - that other guy, the one we used to drink with - ”

“You can’t even remember his name, Lou,” Zayn says, rolling his eyes. “You’re proving our point.”

“You can say you knew it was serious from the beginning,” Harry says. “Like. You know when you know, you know? And you wanted to keep it to yourselves.”

Liam hums. “Zayn would definitely do that.”

“I really would,” Zayn agrees, tugging at Liam’s hand, the one he still has over his shoulders.

“Don’t pull his hand,” Louis suggests. “Fingers interlaced.”

They listen to the drama teacher. Zayn turns himself a little more into Liam, too, and Louis applauds in approval.

“And think about using your weekly lunches,” Harry offers. “That’s something. I know married couples who date less.”

Zayn wrinkles his nose in embarrassment, and Liam elbows him a little. Fresh out of college Zayn had found himself an interim job at a neighbourhood pub while looking for something in illustration, and Liam’d insisted on twice-a-week meetings just so they would see each other. They’ve stuck to it, both probably consciously keeping the other boys out of their plans (Liam’s never asked Zayn, but it’s true for him) - it’s something they get teased about still.

“What’s your proposal story?” Harry asks, leaning in closer. 

“I bought him new chalk pastels,” Liam says, like he’d decided on his own last week. “And I stuck the ring in his kneaded eraser.”

The other boys crack up, but Zayn beams at him. “That’s perfect,” he says, and Liam grins back helplessly.

“This is where you kiss him,” Louis says loudly, breaking their gaze.

A first kiss shouldn't be in front of three people testing them, he thinks, not even if it's pretend. Liam leans in and kisses him on the cheek, instead. Zayn lifts their locked hands and kisses his thumb.

“Tepid,” Louis says. “We’ll work on that.”

“Chalk pastels,” Niall says to himself, and slides out of the booth, shaking his head. “Beer on you,” he says - he’s holding Liam’s wallet, which Liam hadn’t even seen him take - ”We'll hammer out the details.”

Harry shuffles off to help him - he’s very good at getting bartenders’ attention. Louis stays, eyeing them consideringly. “You’re very attractive together. Have you thought of this before?”

They both laugh. “No,” they say in unison.

“And don’t get used to looking at us, either,” Zayn adds. “We’re breaking this off in two years.”

Louis raises his hands in surrender. “I’m only checking!” He lets it go, opening up the note app on his phone. “First things first. Body language is key.”

* * *

The Paynes throw a small barbecue party the weekend after the announcement. The Maliks are invited, too - all of them, on Liam’s father’s insistence. The house is packed as a result, and within twenty minutes Zayn’s cousins volunteer to move the food and chairs to the backyard. 

Both his father and Zayn’s have been friends for a long time, working in the same industry, and they’re clearly pleased to distantly related now, and to have reason to hang out more often, and most of all that two of their children are finally settling down in their lives - but they’re pleased in that ‘we don’t want to show full support for an idea that wasn’t ours’ kind of way, that typical dad way. When Mr Malik shakes his hand and pats him on the back, he says, “It’s not too late to turn back,” and Liam turns to meet Zayn’s eyes. They shake their heads in mutual sympathy.

Later, after everyone’s been mingling outside for an hour, Zayn comes to him while he’s in the middle of a conversation with his aunt. Liam takes his hand automatically and locks their fingers together, and Zayn hooks his head over Liam's shoulder, nudging at his ear with his nose.

“We’ve been told to come have dinner,” Zayn says, waving at his aunt as he starts tugging Liam back with the loose grip he has on his waist. “Were you the one who told your mom to make bolognese for me?”

“She’s known you for a million years,” Liam says, rolling his eyes. He waves to Aunt Lily and points at the table, and she nods but gestures for them to go ahead first, eyes looking suspiciously watery.

Everyone’s broken off into small groups, spread out across the yard, and there’s something inviting and familiar about that background family noise hum, about being able to look up and find people who love him.

As they’re walking to where the table’s been set, Liam meets his cousin’s eyes, a few metres away, and she grins, points at Zayn, and gives him a thumbs-up sign.

He glances at Zayn, who’s looking down, smiling to himself, and Liam knows he’s probably thinking the same thing. Liam lifts their joined hands and kisses the back of Zayn’s, for no reason except that it feels like exactly the thing the mood calls for.

Zayn smiles at him and pushes back the hair that’s fallen loose onto Liam’s forehead.

“So no, then,” Zayn prompts.

“No,” Liam assures him. “ _I_ didn’t do anything.”

Zayn looks happy at the consideration, regardless of who it was that thought of him.

As dinner goes on it becomes increasingly clear to him how ridiculously easy it is to act like Zayn’s fiance. Some of it is conscious: a hand on Zayn’s waist or in the crook of his arm, instead of at Zayn’s back or resting his elbow on his shoulder. A lot of it isn’t: the way they share a bowl of soup because Liam gets too full on all of it at once, or how he finds himself automatically seeking Zayn out when it feels they’ve been apart a little too long.

He finds himself lulled into a quiet, easy content, confident in the act of being with Zayn, happy about being with so many people he loves, and - just a little drunk. It takes him a while to realise he’s been rubbing circles on Zayn’s bicep with his thumb, and when he stops, Zayn swats at his hand to get him to continue.

He starts to zone out, dropping his head on Zayn’s shoulder in an in-and-out doze. He’s not certain if he imagines the kiss Zayn presses against his temple, but he knows he smiles at just the thought of it.

The next time he’s paying attention, Zayn is saying, “No, no dessert for him, ma.”

Zayn’s mother _tsk_ s and Liam turns his head into Zayn’s shoulder to hide his smile. “I know it’s his favouri - okay, but just a box,” Zayn promises. Liam kisses his shoulder in approval.

“Hey, drunky,” Zayn greets lowly.

“You drunky,” Liam says nonsensically. He lifts his head and places his chin on Zayn so he can look at him properly. “You kept dessert from me.”

“It’s only _halwa_ ,” Zayn says, grinning when Liam makes a noise in protest. “Ma’ll give us some in tupperware.”

“Hmm,” Liam says, pretending to frown at him, but losing his grip on it in seconds.

Zayn watches him back for a little bit, eyes amused and fond, before he blinks and sits up, indirectly shaking Liam off his shoulder. “I think we’re going to go,” he says, looking across the table, where - Liam’s only now noticed - their mothers are sitting.

“You can take Liam’s old room,” Mrs Payne says, putting down the glass bowl she’s holding. When she moves to get up, Zayn shakes his head quickly.

“I know the way,” he reminds her, walking quickly to the other side of the table to kiss both of their cheeks. “Thank you for dinner, mums.” He’s standing up from his half-crouch when Mrs Malik tugs him down again to whisper something in his ear.

Liam watches them for a second, taking wary note of the way his own mother is laughing at what she can hear, and then gives up.

He goes to their fathers instead, who pull him in for conversation, too. “I was just telling Yaser,” his father says. “All those weekends we dropped you off at each other’s houses, we never even considered this.”

“Me neither,” Liam says honestly, rubbing at the back of his neck. The two older men grin at him warmly, and send him on his way.

They meet at the back door of the house once they’ve taken their good-night circuit around the party, their hands clasping together again automatically.

“That was good,” Zayn says. He looks tired, but his eyes are warm, his mouth curved into a soft smile.

Liam knows this face as much as he loves this person: from the years of knowing it, and him, and from the part he knows he’s played in changing it, and him. The clean lines of his stubble, the rings of contact lenses around his irises, the little scar partially hidden under his eyebrow from when Liam tried to shave a silly line and cut in a little too carelessly. 

Before Liam can think twice, the lovely low joy of the night pushing him over, he leans in and presses his mouth against Zayn’s. He feels more than hears Zayn’s surprised intake of breath, but he only gets a second to be self-conscious about it before Zayn shifts into it too. Zayn’s free hand comes up to cradle his face, careful as always, and after that second of suspension, Liam can feel both of them sink into it.

It doesn’t even need to deepen to take all of his attention: everything fades away against the warmth of Zayn’s mouth, the rustle of Zayn’s clothing, the texture of Zayn’s hair between his fingers.

He think it’s only been a few seconds when Zayn pulls away, so he pushes in and kisses him one more time, a quick smack, judgment clouded over by the buzzing in his ears and the fluttering warmth pooling in his stomach.

He opens his eyes, grinning, and he’s thrilled to see Zayn grinning back at him too - then they hear a couple of people yelling their names a little ways away, and Zayn breaks eye contact abruptly.

Zayn looks up at the moon as if he’s trying to tell time by its shape. “Getting late,” he says coolly, and when Liam notices the tone is put on, it’s probably only because he’s catalogued parts of Zayn for years.

Whatever that was, whatever it was they meant by it. “Yes,” Liam agrees instead.

* * *

His uncle’s lawyer drops off the keys to the house the day of the party, so Liam offers their families a ride to go see it along with him and Zayn. 

Ruth and Doniya accept, and they pile into the back of his car the next morning after breakfast, their conversation hushed. Zayn and Liam are quiet too, minding their own business, Zayn fiddling with one of the playlists he created on Liam’s iPod. They exchange looks when their sisters burst into laughter at the same time, and Liam only sighs, resigned.

Older sisters.

They pull up in front of the large brick house, which looks the same as it’s looked for as long as Liam remembers. Zayn is uncharacteristically awake and happy for how early it is in the day - a Sunday, no less: he slides his hand into Liam’s as soon as they meet on Zayn’s side of the car, and kisses him on the cheek.

“Gonna show me our new place?” he asks.

Liam shivers a little at the thought. He thinks it’s at the feel of that possession - he’s never owned a house, never anything more than the modest flat fifteen minutes from Troy Records.

“It’s beautiful,” he tells Zayn right away. “You're going to love it.”

“That’s good, considering,” Zayn says with a laugh.

“No, really. It reminds me of your parents’ old place. And there’s this one room - it makes me think of you every time.”

Their sisters are walking close behind them, and they start giggling when they hear him.

“ _Yeh ladka hai allah_ ,” Doniya sings, her grin teasing and happy. She winks when Zayn turns to shoot a glare at her.

Zayn sighs and tugs Liam ahead, speeding up. As soon as they’re a safe distance away, though, Zayn gives up on hiding his smile. Liam raises an eyebrow at him, and he says, “I’ll tell you later,” his head dipping.

They stick together as they walk through the house, leaving their sisters to do whatever they want. Liam can tell, as he shows him the rooms he loved best, that Zayn’s a little awestruck - exactly the reaction he’d wanted from him. He’s not been here since a family Christmas party a couple of years ago, but he spent summers here as a kid, and this big, cosy house has stayed with him - the look of it, its atmosphere, the way it feels simultaneously expensive and personal, touchable.

And there really is a room he’s thought of as the Zayn Room for the better part of twenty years, because it’s a collection of things he’d love: the fireplace, the wall lined with bookshelves. There’s an abandoned easel folded away in a corner, and an afghan thrown over the loveseat in front of the large mahogany desk. As far as he knows, his uncle rarely used this room after his aunt passed away, but it’s still tidily kept. Zayn’s face softens when Liam tells him this.

They’re quiet as they leave to explore the room the next door over.

“I always wanted to grow old in a place like this,” Liam says thoughtfully, as he steps into the room he used to stay in. “Exactly like this house.”

“That include having a room for me?” Zayn asks with a grin, slinging an arm over Liam’s shoulder.

“Sure,” Liam says dismissively. _Yeah_. “There’s a - hang on,” he says, getting to his knees and shuffling towards one of the corners of the room. He presses at the panelling near the bottom of the wall, and a small portion of it presses in and pops back out.

“Is that a secret drawer?” Zayn sounds awed as he crouches down beside him. He rests his hand on Liam’s back for balance.

There are three old video game cartridges and a slightly deformed Batman action figure inside, the things he’d found most important to keep safe when he’d been in his early teens.

Zayn snorts, and then perks up, eyes widening. “Are there things like this in the other rooms?”

“Probably, right?” Liam says. It’d never occurred to him before, and he bounces a little from where he’s sat on the back of his legs, suddenly feeling six again. “Can you imagine?”

“We’re going to have so much fun, Liam,” Zayn says, turning to grin at him. “Thank you.”

Liam feels his cheeks heat. “Thank _you_ ,” he says, and kisses him on the cheek.

They stay pressed into each other for just a few more seconds, until he hears his sister’s giggle from the open door.

* * *

There isn’t much to clear away in the house, and Zayn has to clear out of his old place soon, so they move in rather quickly. There are two rooms that both Zayn and Liam have their eyes on for doing up a little better, making them plan for future weekend projects. Zayn adds his books to various bookshelves around the house in a system he insists will work, Liam fills out display cases with things he loves that he’s bought or received, and they leave a bookshelf with glass doors to combine their comic book collections. 

The night they move in, Zayn goes to the master bedroom, where they’d moved his massive mattress and bedframe, the investment Zayn’s been proudest of for years. Liam takes a shower and retreats to the room they’ve decided will be his home office.

Zayn clearly adores the house the way Liam does, and it unsettles him, a little. With everything they’ve done already, this is what ends up worrying him first - what do they do with the house? They can’t live in it together forever. What happens when Zayn finds someone he likes, someone who likes him back? How would they navigate this?

Should Liam take one of the guest bedrooms?

He looks up to a door opening, yanked out of his thoughts.

“Can’t sleep,” Liam explains at Zayn’s inquiring look. “New house.”

Zayn shakes his head and comes over to him to pull him out of the desk chair.

“Try it with me,” Zayn says, his hand wrapping around his. The engagement ring presses against his skin and Liam focuses on it so he isn’t distracted by the sudden closeness of him. This doesn’t usually happen to him - maybe he’s just been caught off-guard. That’s what he thinks it is.

In the bedroom Zayn tugs off Liam’s shirt and pushes him into bed, and scrambles in after him.

“You know what I was thinking,” Zayn says conversationally, rolling to his side so they’re both facing each other. “We need nicknames. Coupley shit.”

“I call you Z sometimes,” Liam offers. “Or Zaynie.”

“Zaynie is only Niall’s,” Zayn warns him, pressing a finger into Liam’s cheek. “Like Payno is only Niall’s.”

Liam grabs at Zayn’s hand before he can pull away, and tugs it to wrap it around Liam’s waist. “Babe,” he suggests.

“Baby,” Zayn builds. “Honey.”

“Teacup.” Liam thinks for a second, ridiculous word association coming easy to him. “Apple pie.”

“Chocolate croissant.” Zayn wrinkles his nose. “Pumpkin.”

“Bell pepper,” Liam says.

Zayn laughs at him softly, the first to break, and Liam grins back instinctively at the familiar goofy sound. Zayn pulls himself closer, arm around Liam tightening.

“I’ve always liked, um, darling,” Zayn says, his voice dropping. “I like it when you call me ‘love’.”

“I like it when you call me Li,” Liam returns, a soft spot for a soft spot. “Just Li.”

“All right,” Zayn says, and squeezes Liam’s waist. “What are your plans for the second dining room upstairs?”

When Liam wakes up in the morning, warm and well-rested and calm, he isn’t surprised at all.

He opens his eyes just enough to look at Zayn, who’s lying on his stomach, arms folded under his head. He looks tired, too; something that Liam hadn’t really processed before. He resolves to ask him about it later.

In the meantime, Liam moves his hand closer to Zayn’s elbow, shifts a little closer to the heat of him, and goes back to sleep.

He doesn’t move into a guest bedroom.

* * *

On Wednesday evening his uncle’s lawyer comes by to get contact details for their closest friends and some of their relatives. Mr Mace is kind, someone who clearly got on very well with his client, and it makes it easy to overlook the way he observes the photos on the wall, or how he watches Zayn lean into Liam as he tells them he’ll go print the document they collated. Liam makes sure he watches Zayn go, though, just in case. 

“I think he only wanted to make sure you were happy,” Mr Mace tells him as they wait by the bar in the back porch. “He always said you worked too hard.”

Liam can’t hold back his smile even as he shakes his head. “Yes, he always said,” he agrees.

Mr Mace clears his throat, leaning forward against the bar. “Had he ever met Zayn?”

“A few times,” Liam says, settling in as well. “Not after we started dating, but I’ve known Zayn since I was six, you know? He came over a lot, and sometimes Uncle was here too.”

“You didn’t go to the same school,” he says carefully.

“No, we never did, we lived too far apart,” Liam says. They’d been upset about it for years but the travelling time had always seemed too unappealing. Liam thinks he’s glad it happened that way, though, now; Zayn had felt fully his during the time they spent alone, and he still hasn’t deleted the e-mails they used to send to each other. “But our fathers used to work together before Mr Malik went to a different company.”

“Hm.” Mr Mace looks like he’s filing this away somewhere, and Liam smiles internally. “It’s good you kept in touch.”

“Yes, well, I had to,” Liam says, just as Zayn walks back out. “I’ve always loved him.”

Zayn grins at him as he hip-checks him to make him move a little to the side.

Liam has to make sure he looks away.

* * *

Liam likes knowing things about people he loves, and he’s pleased to know there are still things to learn about Zayn, new things to fit into the way he interacts with him. New ways to think of him. Like - he’s always been a little charmed by Zayn in the mornings, but it takes living with him and seeing him every morning to realise how annoying it can be when Zayn grumbles at everything until he’s been awake for an hour. And he knows, now, that Zayn’s always meant it when he asks for nights off, that he likes his time alone and at home. 

But Liam also loves the way Zayn sings as he walks around the house, and the way he sits out back and plays with both their dogs between getting some writing done. He loves the way Zayn gradually spends his nights off less in his room and more with Liam - not doing anything together, but getting work done in the same space. He loves the way Zayn smiles in the morning when he’s greeted with a hug and a mug of tea, made the way his dad’s always liked.

Liam likes making Zayn _chai_ , just like he likes leaving messages every morning on the mini-whiteboard they’ve put on the fridge. He likes that he’s spent less time out at work in favour of quiet evenings in Zayn’s company, and he likes that when he leaves on time his colleagues tease him. He likes that they’re discovering favourite take-out places in the area for their weekday laziness, their favourite recipe websites for their weekend trials and errors.

He _doesn’t_ like that Loki has started leaving his side for Zayn’s whenever the other man enters a room, but in the face of the other things he’s gained, he can’t complain, doesn’t have the heart to complain.

When one of Liam’s reasons for choosing to do this with Zayn had been that he’d never seen him in a romantic light before, he’d been certain of it. He’s never factored in romance, looking at Zayn; he’d never had the urge to.

He hadn’t considered the fact that he’d be forcing Zayn into that light, though. He hadn’t accounted for their nights in, or for the comfort of someone he loves to come home to. He hadn’t thought about having, building a home; he hadn’t thought of the permanence of it.

It makes him fumble.

* * *

Five kisses:

1.

Liam’s settled into his new position in the production department - better than he’d thought he would, he says, but Zayn tells him it’s not a surprise. Liam loves it. He loves having a direct hand in the way music is created, the way music feels and is felt, the way it can change. It feels significant, like he’s helping artists shape their career. 

(He wants to thank Zayn for the role he played in bringing Liam here, but he worries, a little bit, that Zayn would think it’s what he’s most grateful for. Liam knows that’s not true. He’s gotten far more out of this than he’d expected.

It doesn’t yet feel like any of that is right to say.)

Liam’s just walked out a client on the first floor when he hears one of the receptionists saying, “Mr Malik, your fiance’s on the eleventh floor now, if you want me to walk you - ”

“I’ve got it, Maggie, thank you,” Zayn says, “You must be busy.”

When Liam turns around Zayn’s smiling, signing off on the visitor sheet.

Maggie’s beaming up at Zayn from her desk. “He’s in a meeting now,” she says, “so if I can just ask you - ”

“I’ll go up and wait, I’m very good at blending in - ”

Liam rolls his eyes. Zayn wouldn’t be able to blend in in camouflage clothing, let alone the way he looked on a normal day.

“ - I only wanted to know, how did you know? About Mr Payne?” Her eyes are bright and eager, and she looks like the teenage temp she is.

It’s no wonder Zayn stops trying to leave and slowly folds his arms on the top of the desk - he’s a sap for kids and romance, too. “It’s a little boring,” Zayn says, smiling sheepishly. “We’d been hanging out all weekend, watching movies, making dinner, that sort of thing, and. I just realised I would never stop wanting to hang out. You know?”

His voice is warm and slow and thoughtful, honey. It’s not even a story they had agreed upon beforehand, so he must be making it up on the spot, but Liam can’t help but smile, letting the dreaminess of it lift him up.

Imagine a bunch of ordinary things being all you need to realise something that big, Liam thinks. It’s ridiculous.

“Oh, I _know_ ,” Maggie says, serious, her eyes still sparkling.

“Ah, do you,” Zayn says, faking seriousness right back at her. “Have you kissed this person? Then you’ll know for sure. That’s when I started to realise.”

“Yes, we’ve kissed,” she says, grinning at him.

“Then you’re already not taking as long as we did.” He leans in and says something softly, something Liam’s too far away to hear.

She laughs and lifts up her hands, index and middle fingers on both crossed. “Thank you, Mr Malik,” she says. “I’ll let you go now.”

“See you soon,” Zayn says, knocking the desk with his knuckles as he steps back. When he turns around he spots Liam immediately, and Liam feels his mouth tug into a smile in response to Zayn’s.

“Hey Li,” Zayn says as Liam comes up to him. He kisses Liam on the cheek, his hand sliding across Liam’s back.

“Thought our lunch was near your office today?” Liam says, taking the plastic bag Zayn’s holding. He nods at Maggie, who’s grinning at them as they walk past her to the lifts.

“Got the day off,” Zayn explains. “One more week and I’m out.”

They get on the lift with one of the Troy higher-ups, someone he’s seen around for years. Mr Fong smiles at them as Zayn holds the lift doors open for him.

Liam is going to say something, start a conversation, when Zayn beats him to it. He asks about Mr Fong’s daughter, the university major she’s decided on, if her Mandarin has been improving.

Liam lets his mouth snap shut, bemused. He’s always thought about how long he’s known the people he’s worked with, especially the people who’ve been around since even before Liam’s father’s promotion, but he’d never thought about the way Zayn’s slotted himself in here, too.

There’s something so traceable about it, though, in a way that he’s surprised he hasn’t realised until now. The regular receptionist on the first floor always waves Zayn in, no visitor sheet offered for signing. His father’s assistant sometimes e-mails him when Zayn hasn’t been around in a while, just to check on him - likes reminding him of the time, when they were children, when they’d come in to meet their fathers after school and Zayn had gotten sick on the carpets. Mrs Martinez from Talent Relations asked him a few months ago for Zayn’s cellphone number so that her daughter could ask him for advice on art internships.

How long has this been happening, Liam thinks, and how? He’s still a little dazed when the doors open again.

“Nice to see you boys again,” Mr Fong says, and pats Liam on the back before he steps out of the lift. “And congratulations!”

-

2. 

Liam doesn’t realise the sheer number of company events (or parties, more like) involved in the business until he sends Zayn a text about needing to be his date and realises the last three messages he’s sent to him are all about work things.

Zayn takes it in good humour, mostly; he finds someone he knows and sticks to them, or, when he’s got no one to interact with, he sits in a corner of the room and looks beautiful and untouchable so people leave him alone, and then slides in next to Liam whenever he’s talking to someone important.

Tonight it’s one of the former, which Liam is glad for.

“Liam,” Zayn calls him over. His hand reaches for Liam’s as soon as they’re close enough and Liam takes it, not thinking twice.

“Darling,” Liam says, kissing him on the cheek.

Zayn’s always boasted that no one can tell when he blushes, but Liam figured it out when he was seven years old, and the signs haven’t changed - the clearest ones being the way Zayn’s eyes soften, and the way his chin drops a little, suddenly shy. He watches now as Zayn turns his head, wrinkling his nose at him.

Liam only realises he’s staring when someone clears their throat in front of them.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Zayn says, breaking their gaze. His hand around Liam’s tightens, and Liam knows he’s embarrassed by the way his smile tugs a little too much to the side. “Mrs Yardley’s been looking for you. I was telling her about some of the bands you’ve been working with.”

“I’m glad your father’s finally let you get your hands on these things,” she says. “I merely wanted to congratulate you.”

Liam shakes the hand he’s offered, smiling at her as he thanks her.

“I kept telling him - ” Zayn starts to say.

“I know, dear,” Mrs Yardley says, and Zayn dips his chin even more. Liam resists kissing him on the temple for the two seconds it takes him to realise he _can_ do it, that it makes sense for him to. Zayn leans into it, a little. He lifts his head.

“The other reason I was looking for you is - ” and here she raises her eyebrows. “Zayn here refuses to tell me about any of the graphic novels he’s been working on, in this new company.”

“ _Oh_ ,” Liam says, letting go of Zayn’s hand to wrap his arm around him before he can get away. “That’s okay, I can spoil them for you in detail. Women-led scifi or team noir?”

-

3.

“Stop telling people we’re getting married in July, Liam,” Zayn says. He’s standing outside the bar he stormed out of as soon as Liam’s production head and their client had left the table to get another round of drinks. “I’ll be fasting, I don’t want to deal with my father’s questions.” 

“Stop saying August,” Liam returns, incredulous. “The same month as my birthday?”

“I only _said_ August because you - okay, then no January.”

“That wasn’t even a - ”

Zayn’s eyes suddenly widen and he yanks Liam into him. The sudden force of it shifts Liam right into Zayn, catches him off-guard as it makes him push Zayn right against the wall. Zayn tenses, and then relaxes into it, tilting his head so he can nose Liam’s cheek.

“Your boss,” he says softly, now nipping at the cut of his jaw. “I still think you’re being annoying, we _said_ spring - ”

Liam almost laughs as he slides his arm around Zayn’s waist to pull him closer, and loses the urge as soon as their mouths meet.

He doesn’t bother with light kisses, for once, doesn’t think it feels right; slides his tongue against Zayn’s right away, his free hand slipping into Zayn’s hair. Zayn lifts his leg so his knee pushes right against the back of Liam’s, and he makes a low, approving noise that surprises Liam with the heat of it, the jolt it sends through him.

He’s always thought of Zayn as attractive, he knows it as fact - but it’s never hit him the way it does now, as Zayn rolls them over and pushes him against the wall instead. It’s not just the way he looks, but the way he moves, the way he feels under Liam’s hands. The way he kisses: the way he presses all of himself into Liam, the way Liam can tell Zayn is focusing, more than anything, on him.

It takes everything in him to open his eyes and pretend to be surprised by the woman standing by the side exit. Josie’s eyes are narrowed even as her mouth twitches in amusement, and it’s that look more than anything that makes Liam break away.

“Just wanted to check - all right with what’s on tap?” she asks.

Both of them nod quickly, and she laughs.

“We’ll be done in an hour, boys,” she says wryly. “Leave it for later.”

As they head back into the bar, Zayn meets Liam’s gaze, his eyes still a little dark, and licks the side of his mouth. Liam looks away, trying hard to supress a giddy grin.

-

4. 

Zayn arrives late to a work party and it takes Liam two minutes to realise he’s in a Mood, and another five minutes for him to get the chance to drag him to a corner of the room. Zayn pulls away from Liam’s grip on his wrist but follows him anyway. 

“I just didn’t want to do this today,” Zayn says, shaking Liam off as soon as he reaches for him again to touch his back. “I can’t do this today.”

He does look exhausted - it’s not just in the way he holds himself, but there’s something in his eyes, a weariness that goes bone-deep. He looks unhappy. Liam goes over what Zayn told him he’d be doing today, and all he can think of is lunch with Louis. Why would that drain him this much?

Guiltily Liam thinks of how many times he’s avoiding asking about how tired Zayn is lately, how much that’s motivated by him not wanting to know if he’s part of the reason for it. He’ll ask tonight, he resolves, and in the meantime -

“I’ll take you home,” Liam says, and goes to make the appropriate excuses to the host before Zayn can protest.

Zayn is smiling at him in tired, sheepish relief as Liam comes back with his coat, which is why he helps him put it on instead of just handing it to him. He moves in to pull it around him and waits for Zayn to get his arms in. He adjusts the collar, and uses it to tug Zayn in and press a kiss onto his forehead. Zayn leans into it with a quiet sigh.

Liam feels something in him tug.

“Do you need to talk about anything?” Liam asks. Zayn only shakes his head slowly.

As they leave, Zayn’s arm around his waist and his weight resting heavily on him, Liam kisses him again on the temple. He only realises people are watching when one of his colleagues smiles at them warmly. He anticipates seizing up, feeling awkward about forgetting their audience, but he finds it doesn’t bother him at all - it feels natural. It feels nice.

Zayn falls asleep when Liam’s in the shower, putting off the conversation another night.

-

5. 

They get a night off, both coming back in the late afternoon and with no one to meet, no one to pretend for, and Liam wants to cook, so they head out to the nearest Asda. They move around together instead of splitting up, arguing over the brand of cheese to buy, sniggering at the canned meats section.

They’re loitering around the ice cream freezer, a stop they’d both tried to avoid but failed miserably at, when Liam sees him.

“Don’t turn around,” he says, taking the shopping basket away from Zayn and reaching for his waist with his free hand. It’s instinctive now - when did it become instinctive? “Kabir’s at the end of the aisle.”

“Ex-boyfriend Kabir?” Zayn says, bemused even as he leans into him. “ _My_ ex-boyfriend Kabir?”

“Didn’t you break up when he moved to Denmark, or something?” Liam turns them both towards the freezer. He curls his hand around Zayn’s waist a little more.

“Amsterdam,” Zayn corrects, his eyes flickering to the side as if trying to will him into periphery. “I mean, I don’t care now, but - ”

“You only broke up because of Denmark,” Liam reminds him. “I thought you would get married.”

“Nah, there were other reasons. And now it’s been three years,” Zayn says, and then - ”Liam, you plank, what are you doing?”

“Nothing,” he says, as he turns his head and nuzzles into Zayn’s cheek, and then bends his head just enough to kiss him on the neck. He’s compelled to add, for reasons he can’t decipher (though one of them is probably the way his heart is beginning to thud, or the way he’s hyper-aware of all the places where Zayn presses into him), “Remember _we_ ’re engaged.”

Zayn snorts, just this side of annoyed. “Right.” And then, louder, he says, “If you don’t buy hazelnut you’re sleeping on the couch.”

Liam quickly moves his hand up to Zayn’s face.

“Hazelnut,” he promises, grinning at him, and he waits for Zayn to smile back (reluctant as it may be) to kiss him, slow and firm. He shifts his foot up and plants it beside Zayn’s feet, stance straightening, and leaves it there when Zayn pulls away.

Zayn is shaking his head and smiling, his hand resting right on Liam’s heart. He taps at it, once.

“I don’t forget we’re engaged,” Zayn tells him softly, and turns around without moving away from him, letting Liam lean against his back. 

As Kabir approaches them, Zayn reaches for Liam’s hand and laces his fingers through his. Liam squeezes back.

* * *

“What are your thoughts on having kids?”

“Jesus, Nic,” Liam sputters, as his sister starts cackling on the other end of the line.

“I’m sorry,” Nicola says. “Will you be free this Friday to look after of Melissa? We’re going out with our parents for dinner and our sitter cancelled.”

The only plans he’d had were to stay in and do nothing with Zayn, but he’d give that up for his niece. “Ninety quid an hour.”

“Mm,” Nicola says, in her tolerant-sister voice. “Bring Zayn, Mel loves him.”

Sure enough, Melissa’s face lights up when she looks past Liam and sees Zayn that Friday evening. Mel runs to him to push up Zayn’s right sweater sleeve and trace her favourite tattoo.

Liam tries look indignant, but fails, judging by the way Nicola smiles knowingly at him and kisses him on the cheek.

“You can order yourselves pizza or make it,” she says. “Bedtime’s at nine-thirty, we’ll be back by eleven. You can sleep in one of the guest bedrooms if you want, it’s no hassle.”

He smiles at her and tells her to have fun. Zayn and Mel wave from where they’ve both sat on the floor. Liam closes and locks the door behind his sister and sits down next to them.

“Don’t sit on the floor too!” Mel says with a laugh, moving to get up.

“I love sitting on the floor,” Zayn says, grinning at her. “Ask your uncle.”

“The first time I met him he was lying on the floor in his bedroom,” Liam confirms. “His bed was right there!”

Mel looks at them both, face scrunched up in thought. Later that evening when she wants to watch “Anastasia”, she pushes them into the sofa and sits on the floor. Liam sees her shift around uncomfortably and, trying not to laugh, he pulls off some of the cushions on the other sofa and props them on the ground.

She falls asleep curled into those pillows, her feet on the floor brushing against Liam’s. Zayn is leaning into him tiredly, having taken charge of their pizza-making mission earlier that night, but they’re both still rapt with the movie.

“She’s going to say something totally random and her grandmother will know,” Liam whispers.

“He’s not going to take the money,” Zayn whispers back. “Obviously.”

“You - you’ve watched it with your sisters.” Liam realises, off the forced nonchalance on Zayn’s face. Liam shoves him. “Cheater.”

Zayn’s laughter is hushed, but his smile is still blinding. Liam finds himself squinting at him in order to be able to keep looking.

Zayn often looks like he’s keeping himself locked away, a little, keeping himself in check. In the shifting colours of the television light, though, he looks soft, and warm, and open. And lovely - not someone museum-art beautiful, but someone he can touch.

“What?” Zayn says.

Liam shifts closer to him, drawn into him. Zayn watches him, and then looks down at his mouth.

“Children, we’re home,” Nicola calls, yanking the door to the family room open. Her husband comes in behind her, laughing.

“Very funny,” Liam says, only now realising his hand is on Zayn’s chest.

Nicola crouches down next to Melissa and raises an eyebrow at him as she gently shakes her awake.

“She fell asleep at nine-thirty!” Liam exclaims. Zayn lets out a snort next to him.

“Boys,” Nicola huffs, eerily reminiscent of their mother. “I’m going to ruin your children.”

Both Zayn and Liam finally pull back from each other at this, their shoulders no longer touching.

“I think we’ll pass on the guest room,” Liam says.

* * *

They stay in on Liam’s birthday. They don’t bother with a party, and they save the dinner with their friends for the weekend closer to Niall’s birthday. Liam buys two slices of cake from the bakery a block away from Troy, and they eat it for dessert after Zayn’s special spicy chicken. 

“I picked up a ring from my parents’ this morning,” Zayn says as he stacks the plates on top of one another and carries them into the kitchen.

“An engagement ring?” Liam follows him, leaning against the doorway, watching Zayn as he loads the dishwasher and switches on the machine.

“Yeah, but like. It’s really cool?” Zayn digs into his back pocket, opens the ring box and brings it back to Liam. “My great-grandfather on my mum’s side was also born in August, so we found something with your birthstone?”

The thick ring is in embossed dark silver, a peridot sitting simply in the middle. He slips it on and then tugs Zayn’s left hand in, comparing the styles - they’re both carved, both a little wide, but the styles are so different.

Zayn tilts his hand a little so the light off the green stone hits the diamond on his ring, and then, grinning, he slaps the back of their hands together and slides his hand back, a goofy handshake.

Liam can’t take his eyes off it. He flexes his fingers a few times, trying to get used to its weight.

“Like it?” Zayn asks.

It fits so well. “Yes,” he says firmly. He knows his smile is a little tenuous, hopes Zayn can read it for what it is: he genuinely doesn’t know what to say. It's been feeling less and less like pretend, and this only adds to that feeling.

Zayn’s moved in a little closer than he’d expected when he looks back up. He bites his lip, looking cautious, but Liam stays where he is and looks at him right back.

Zayn reaches for the back of Liam’s neck, his arm resting on Liam’s chest.

“I just want to. Let me try something?”

He waits until Liam is looking right into his eyes, and then glances around the room - he’s deliberate about it, and Liam realises later that he's logging the emptiness of it, making a point of the lack of audience. He moves his free hand up to his cheek, and tugs him in.

Liam barely registers the peck against his lips before Zayn moves away.

“There’s, um,” Liam says, unable to take his eyes off Zayn’s mouth now. “There’s nobody here?”

Zayn starts to pull away from him, his mouth going tight. “Yeah - ”

“No,” Liam says quickly, with a startled laugh. There’s nobody here - there’s a reason Zayn did that with nobody here, the same reason he’d leaned in at Nicola’s last week. “Are you going to - ” He reaches for Zayn’s hand, reels him back in and kisses him quickly, cutting himself off.

Zayn blinks at him as they break away, slowly starting to smile.

“You didn’t let me process.” Liam drops Zayn’s hand to put his hand on his waist, steady, now certain he wants it to be there.

“Okay,” Zayn says. “I’ll wait - ”

“No,” Liam repeats. “I’ve processed it.”

When he dives back in this time, it’s full of intent, full of purpose. It burns through him as their lips meet again - he feels himself straightening, brightening, suddenly a little more frantic. He shifts his hand so his arm’s around Zayn’s waist, and opens his mouth and swallows Zayn’s gasp.

It’s all heat as their tongues meet - they melt. The hand that Liam isn’t using to keep Zayn pressed against him, he uses to touch - Zayn’s hair, his thigh, his chest. Zayn cups his face, thumb pressing against Liam’s cheek, and nips at his bottom lip.

Zayn pulls away from him just far enough to trail light kisses down his neck, fast but firm. Liam takes this as his cue to start hauling Zayn to the nearest flat surface, and the backs of his knees hit something cushy exactly as Zayn starts to push off Liam’s unbuttoned flannel shirt. He sits down and Zayn follows him, his knees falling on one side of Liam’s body, his arm resting on the other.

They kiss again. Liam tugs one of Zayn’s knees over both his legs so he’s straddling him, and as Zayn shifts down, they both moan. Liam grinds up into the hard heat of him, burying his nose into Zayn’s neck - he knows this smell, but it’s different up close - it makes his stomach flip. Zayn’s hand shifts up into Liam’s hair in response, and it tightens when Liam licks at his collar.

He moves up again just as Zayn looks down, and their noses bump. Startled, Liam opens his eyes, meeting Zayn’s.

They stare at each other, breathing a little too loudly -

\- and then, and Liam isn’t sure who does it first, they start to smile.

Liam’s surprised to realise that this doesn’t feel weird. He’s minutes from coming in his jeans, his best friend straddling him, and it doesn’t feel strange that he wants to turn his head to the side and kiss Zayn’s forearm where it’s resting on top of the couch. It doesn’t feel strange that the only reason he hasn’t done that yet is that he doesn’t want to look away from Zayn - from the intent look in his eyes, the heat in them tempered by the loose fondness of his smile.

They’re on the same page. Of course they’d be.

Liam twitches his nose, wanting to scratch it but loathe to move his hands from where he’s pressed into Zayn. Zayn looks down at it and up again, smile widening even more, and he leans in for a second so their noses nudge against each other’s.

Liam can’t take his eyes off of him. It’s becoming a condition.

“This escalated quickly,” Zayn says. Liam notices he isn’t pulling away.

“I haven’t had sex since January,” Liam confesses mournfully.

Zayn starts to laugh. Liam rolls his eyes as he moves his hand from the nape of Zayn’s neck; drags his way down Zayn’s back in a way that tugs at the loose T-shirt fabric. He rests it at the base of Zayn’s spine and presses firmly.

Zayn breaks into a moan as he’s pushed further into him.

“Mm,” he says, and closes the distance between their upper bodies, leaning in so his elbows are resting on Liam’s shoulders. “You know, this is an old couch,” Zayn says leadingly.

“A very old couch in our living room,” Liam agrees. “Upstairs, do you think?”

Zayn shows his approval by tightening his arms around Liam’s neck and moving back to kissing Liam’s neck. They go to their room.

* * *

The shift is so smooth, they never talk about it - that first night, on Liam’s birthday, they lie next to each other, recovering - and then they turn to look at each other at the same time, and Liam rolls on top of him for a second round, smiles against skin. 

There’s an entirely new level of things he’s learning about Zayn, now: the way he gasps when Liam kisses him mid-laugh, sharp and soft at once. The particular affection he has for Liam’s clavicle. How amenable he is to long make-outs on the couch, or in the kitchen, or in the shower. How easy he is to distract from the washing up when one of them takes their shirt off.

It’s strange how Zayn makes him feel, how reactive Liam is to him. He’s still trying to understand the way everything about the way he looks at Zayn is changing - not being replaced, so much as it’s being amplified. Surely there’s a reason, the way he’s being affected. He’s never felt like this before.

Parties certainly get more bearable, and he’s certain Zayn agrees with him. Really they’d been doing the bare minimum of kissing before, he realises. And the bare minimum of touching. How had he been able to stop, before, when they’d come back home?

“Hey,” Zayn says, nudging at Liam with his knee. “You all right?”

“Just thinking,” Liam says, rolling over to smile at him. They’re both naked under the covers, cooling off with just their feet entangled. He grabs at Zayn’s elbow, slides his hand into the crook of his arm, and uses that to tug him in so he can kiss him lightly.

“I can’t believe how long we went without this?” he says, not thinking to be self-conscious about saying such a thing until the words come out of his mouth.

Zayn smiles back at him, though, his eyes crinkling. “Yeah.”

“Mel wants us back for dinner next week.” Liam moves in a little more so that his arm is pressing into Zayn’s, their bodies at a right angle as Zayn lies flat and Liam leans over him.

“And what does her mother think?” Zayn says, laughing a little.

“Her mother,” Liam says, “would be happy to not have to answer a hundred more questions about tattoos and comic books.”

Zayn shrugs smugly. “What can I say, _your_ niece _loves_ me.”

Liam rolls his eyes, tracing the lettering at Zayn’s collar. “Have you thought about getting any more lately?”

“Nah, too expensive,” Zayn says. His voice is rougher, lower. “The half-sleeve and chest pieces are good enough for me.”

When Liam looks back up at him, Zayn is already looking back, his eyes heavy with want.

“Too bad,” Liam says, keeping his eyes on Zayn’s as he presses his lips against the red ones on his chest.

When he opens his mouth to nip at it, Zayn bucks up into him, his eyes narrowing.

“Imagine little markings like that in all the places you’re sensitive,” he continues, sliding his hand down Zayn’s chest and stomach, and then diverting, instead of moving straight down, to rest on his outer thigh.

“That would look - really - ” Zayn inhales sharply when Liam bites at his hip.

“Hmm?” Liam prompts, smirking at him now.

He bites under Zayn’s ribs, at his upper bicep, and at his jaw, before Zayn moves to kiss him on the mouth. Liam kisses back and then pulls away, pushing Zayn down when he chases his kiss. He makes a triumphant noise when Zayn glares at him.

“What can I say,” Liam mocks.

Zayn pulls him down and rolls them over. Liam lets out an “oof!”, laughing as Zayn holds his hands down beside him.

* * *

Weekend Project #1 - the de-carpeting of the attic - starts out well enough. Liam uses a proper utility knife and everything as he peels up a corner of the carpeting, and that guise of professionalism makes him declare, proudly, “This is a good hardwood floor.” 

Both him and Zayn lose that drive half an hour into pulling up the carpet, the old mustiness of it making both of them sneeze. Zayn keeps whining about his back, and Liam’s pricked his fingers twice on badly covered staples. They’re both annoyed enough that they haven’t taken a break for making out or groping which, Liam has to admit, has recently come to be high on his list of why he likes doing things with Zayn.

When Zayn’s phone rings, they’re both happy to leap on it. Liam throws a bottle of water at him and he catches it with an already distracted smile.

It takes Liam hearing the word ‘hospital’ for him to guess why. Liam reaches over and squeezes his hand quickly, and starts clearing up.

“Where did she get admitted?” Zayn asks into the phone.

Liam tosses the torn-up pieces of carpet in a corner.

“I mean, okay, but - ” Zayn sighs with his nose, annoyed. “All right. Be safe.”

Liam looks at him inquiringly as Zayn puts the phone away.

“Mum fell and did something to her hip yesterday, they just finished a surgery this morning.” Zayn rubs his face with his hands, slouching.

Liam winces in sympathy, itching to reach over and touch him, but Liam’s learned he doesn’t like that when he’s anxious unless he reaches to touch first. “She’s okay?”

“Yeah, _now_ ,” Zayn says. “He told me not to come.”

“I’ll drive you,” Liam says, knowing Zayn doesn’t care. “Go change.”

They’re in the car in ten minutes. Zayn is buzzing in his seat, nervous energy rolling off him in waves, and Liam stays quiet and waits. He’s a little concerned about Mrs Malik, but overwhelmingly he can’t stop glancing at Zayn, and he hopes, guiltily, selfishly, that she’s okay, almost more for Zayn’s sake than her own. 

“I can’t trust my parents,” Zayn finally says, as they arrive at the hospital. “ _After_ the surgery they call me.”

“They didn’t want you to worry,” Liam reminds him, turning off the engine.

Zayn huffs, unimpressed. “I’m worrying _now_.”

As they round the front of the car, meeting and then walking ahead, Zayn reaches for Liam’s hand. They get the room number from the nurse at the front desk and head towards the lifts. Zayn seems to be getting calmer, but Liam keeps his hand where it is.

“It’s very strange to think of them hurt,” Zayn confesses quietly. “I mean, I know she’s okay, but.”

Liam waits a few seconds, knowing Zayn wouldn’t want to be interrupted if he had something else to say. “I know, love,” he says. “You’re a worrier.”

Zayn shoots him a half-smile, still distracted but a little less distant. They turn into the corridor the room’s on, where Mr Malik’s just closing a door behind him.

“I told you she was fine,” Mr Malik says, but he doesn’t look surprised to see them here, and he’s opening his arms for Zayn’s hug even as Zayn reaches for him.

“She’s fine?” Zayn repeats anyway, his voice sounding young as he speaks into his father’s shoulder.

“Mm,” Mr Malik says. “It wasn’t a bad injury, but she’s old, you know. Doesn’t heal like she used to.”

“Don’t tell her you said that,” Liam says with a smile. “She’ll be after you when she’s back on her feet.”

“In a month?” he says, laughing, and pats Zayn’s back as he pulls away. “She’ll forget about it in two days.”

He hugs Liam now, a shorter hug, but no less firm and sturdy and warm. He hugs the way Zayn hugs, and not for the first time, Liam recognises the way his affection for this man threads to how much he loves his son: their laughs match, their eyes match; the way they stand beside people they care for, the way they tease.

He ruffles Liam’s hair a bit once their hug breaks, smiling slightly. To Zayn, he says, “She’s resting for a while, but you can go in when they wake her up to check on her. Don’t scold her.”

“I won’t,” Zayn says, frowning. His father raises his eyebrows at him, looking like he’s suppressing a smirk. Liam knows that look well - like father, like son.

“Does she need anything? Do you?” Liam asks, moving to stand back next to Zayn.

“The girls could live with us until uni starts?” Zayn offers.

“It started this week, _beta_ ,” Mr Malik says, shaking his head. “They’re both off at their halls.”

He laughs when Zayn looks caught, and slings an arm around his shoulders to tug him in for another quick squeeze.

“I’m going to get lunch, see if I can sneak anything edible in for your mother.”

“There’s a _halal_ restaurant right next door,” Zayn says. “I could - ”

“Sit,” Mr Malik says. “The doctor said she’ll be back in five minutes, she can give you details. Text your sisters!”

“Okay, _baba_ ,” Zayn says, sighing exaggeratedly, marred by the beginnings of his smile. “Go.”

Once Mr Malik’s turned towards the lobby, Liam moves to sit back down. Zayn stops him, putting both hands on his shoulders, and then pulls him in for a kiss. It’s chaste and unhurried, totally directionless, even as Liam moves to tentatively rest his hand against Zayn’s back. When Zayn breaks away he doesn’t move any more than he needs to to rest his forehead against Liam’s.

“Thank you,” he says quietly, his eyes still closed.

Liam can’t look away, this kiss with no purpose bowling him over. “I - anything,” he says weakly.

* * *

Zayn does end up going to his parents’, more for his peace of mind than for his parents - and only for a week. Liam can feel the absence of him, though, and not just because he has to put up with Loki’s moody shuffles every evening when he sees Liam at the door without Zayn behind him. 

He hadn’t used to think of his uncle much outside of the time he spent with him, but he wonders, now, how quietly he must have lived, how much this house was not built for silence.

It’s that gloom he takes with him when he meets the other boys on Wednesday night. They must twig onto it right away - Liam sees them exchange looks when he refuses a second drink - but they don’t say anything, which Liam appreciates.

It lasts until he gets a text. _with the boys?_

 _y! when will u be back?_ and then Liam adds, sheepishly, in a second message, _how is ur mum?_

_shes gd :) just restless. been helping her w/daily walks b/c i’ve got less 2 lose snapping at her than abbu does._

Liam snorts. _i bet_

_i’ll be back this weekend, both of them say i’m annoying w/o u_

Not even Louis pinching his arm dampens his smile at that.

“Is that Zayn?” Harry asks.

“He’s stopped moping, of course it’s Zayn,” Niall says. Louis steals his phone.

“I’m equally...annoying...without you,” Louis says out loud as he types. Liam tries to take it from him, but Louis hands it over to Niall, who’s far enough that Liam can’t reach for him.

“Guys,” Liam says, exasperated.

“You know he’s back in three days,” Louis points out.

He knows. He tries not to sigh impatiently. “I’m just,” says Liam. “Playing the game, like you kept saying.”

“All right,” Louis says, “Put aside the fact that we know you’re faking it and you don’t need to do this around us.” He presses his thumb into a bruise on Liam’s collarbone that he’d thought his T-shirt was hiding. Liam hisses and jumps back, his hand coming up reflexively to push him away. “This too?”

Liam bristles at the sharpness of Louis’ voice. “I don’t know what you - ”

“Come off it,” Niall interrupts. “I wanted to get lunch with you last week and saw you two going at it in your office.”

Liam sinks into his seat.

“Told you about those lunch dates,” Harry says slowly, leaning back in his chair. “That’s not normal.”

They all stare at him, waiting.

“Can’t we wait till Zayn gets back to start this?” Liam huffs, and then, not knowing what else to say, sighs and drops his head onto the table. “It’s a mutually beneficial agreement,” he mumbles.

“I told you to be careful,” Louis says.

“No you didn’t,” Liam says, confused. He’d remember being interrogated like this.

“Well I told _Zayn_ ,” Louis corrects himself. “It still holds. Do you know what you’re doing?”

Of course he does. Zayn is attractive, and sexy. He’s warm and funny. He’s Liam’s best friend. This isn’t just easy sex - it feels like the right thing to do, a natural way of taking things further.

“It’s mutually beneficial,” Liam says again, looking back up at them. “And we’ll be done when we break this off.”

“When you,” Harry repeats, looking dubious. “When you break this off.”

“Yes,” Liam says. “Two years, remember?”

The others exchange looks. Liam frowns.

Niall reminds him, “It’s barely been four months.”

“We’re going to be fine,” insists Liam. “We both know there’s a time limit.”

He drains the dregs of his drink pointedly, hoping he’s cuing the end of the conversation. None of the others take the hint.

“Why two years?” Louis asks.

Liam sighs, and starts his list. “We’ll get the money once the lawyer checks everything out, the latest that could take is a year, and the next year is buffer time. Both of us are going to be working really hard until we get used to our new jobs, so we probably won’t meet anyone new until - ”

“No,” Harry interrupts. “Why _only_ two years? Why not more than that?”

Liam sits back, perplexed.

Louis shakes his head, very visibly giving up on the conversation. “Just think about it,” he says, and grasps Liam’s shoulder firmly, “And talk to him.”

* * *

Zayn adores his Zayn Room, but Liam knows he loves the kitchen best. Liam likes it too, of course; all brick, warm colours, and in the evening, because of the way the glass doors face outside, it floods with sunlight. He loves it the most, though, when Zayn’s in it with him - the light hitting him just right as the room fills up with his low hums and the smell of his favourite spices. 

It’s four months into their engagement, eleven weeks after they moved in, five days after Zayn goes to the Maliks’, when Liam comes back home to the low sound of music in the kitchen. When he slips in quietly after throwing his blazer on the couch, Zayn is straining out a pot full of pasta, singing along in a ridiculous falsetto. He’s rolling his shoulders to the beat, one of the only two dance moves he’s comfortable with, endearingly atrocious as they are.

“Hey,” Liam says, leaning against the doorframe.

“Hi, Li,” Zayn says smoothly, like he’d known Liam’s been watching. “Dad dropped me off in the morning. The stereo I bought came in this afternoon.”

Liam watches Zayn go back to the sauce, and he makes a noise of protest when Zayn reaches for another chilli. Zayn laughs and puts it aside, shaking his head.

In the background, the music switches to another familiar hit, but it takes the fuzzy, slightly dated-sounding music switching to Bowie for him to realise -

“Guardians of the Galaxy?” he asks, surprised.

Studying a day’s train journey away from each other had reduced their contact during university to the occasional phone call, the rarer texts. They grew to rely on weekend outings centred around Marvel summer releases, and he still thinks of them in terms of Zayn. This movie Liam associates with spending a week in Zayn’s cheap studio apartment while Zayn completed a summer term.

“I bought the CD right after you left that summer,” Zayn says, turning for a second to smile at him. “Dug it out while they installed the speakers. Suits the room, don’t you think?”

It does. Quietly, to himself, he decides never to play any music after 2000 in this room, just to protect this feeling. It’ll be for when they live apart again, for whoever it is that stays in this house, for whoever gets to stay home.

He loosens his tie and waits until Zayn switches off the stove to slide in beside him and wrap an arm around his waist, turning his body so it faces his. He starts to sway slowly, and when it looks like Zayn isn’t going to leave or move away, he slips his other arm around Zayn’s side.

Zayn just leans in closer, resting his arms on Liam’s shoulders, settling in.

“Don’t think we’ll need dance classes,” Zayn says softly after a couple of minutes. “Tell my mum.”

Liam makes a noncommittal noise, tightening his grip around Zayn to pull him in properly. There’s something twisting in him, screwing him down to the ground, settling him.

Ordinary things being all he needs to realise something this big: he wants to come home to Zayn for the rest of his life. He wants to keep dancing to songs that have gone out of fashion. He doesn’t want to move into a guest bedroom.

He doesn’t want Zayn to leave.

Liam takes a deep breath and says, finally, “ _Missed_ you.”

Zayn is smiling when their eyes meet. Liam feels the warmth of it rush through him, and he ducks his head to hide the pink in his cheeks against the curve of Zayn’s neck.

He kisses him there, wanting Zayn to know it, to feel it too.

“Two more songs before dinner gets cold,” Zayn says, as he starts to move them both around in slow circles.

* * *

They’re in Liam’s office when it happens, Zayn lying stomach-down on the floor as he’s using his laptop, Liam listening to one of his team’s new solo artists with one ear of his headphones on. 

“Julian wants us to go on a double date with him,” Zayn says, laughing as he looks up at Liam from his screen.

“What?” Liam asks distractedly.

“He invited us to dinner with his fiancee,” Zayn says, leaning over and pushing at Liam’s shin. “What do you think?”

Liam slides the headphones down, and it takes him a minute to realise what Zayn’s saying. Liam’s instinct is to say “yes, and we’ll cook”, and then “maybe we can invite Benny from my team”, which is what makes him suddenly start to panic. “Maybe not,” he says.

“What?”

“I don’t think we should,” Liam says, his eyes darting to Zayn for a second before looking away.

“I don’t see how it’s different from - ”

“I just,” Liam says. “Do we need to keep going out? I think everyone knows we’re doing this already.”

Zayn furrows his eyebrows. “This isn’t about proving that we’re engaged. I just wanted to - ”

“And _we_ shouldn’t be getting too used to it, right? We’ll be done in one and a half years. The more people we talk to now the more people we’re going to make it awkward for later.” Liam keeps going, all of them arguments that he’s been having with himself since the boys warned him about being careful, since he’d danced with Zayn in the kitchen.

They’d been right. He’d been right. He’d missed Zayn when he’d been gone for five days, and everything they’d been doing when they hadn’t needed to pretend - that hadn’t helped, it’d made it worse.

“One and a half - ” Zayn says, confused. Liam finally manages to look at Zayn again. There’s a look of dawning comprehension on Zayn’s face - just for a moment, and then he totally shuts down. “Right.”

He’d thought Zayn would agree, considering he’s the more rational one of the two of them. They’ve already taken it beyond what it’d needed to be, and he wants to be careful. He wants to keep this safe.

“Like,” Liam begins.

“No, I know,” Zayn cuts in, shifting away from him. His hands come up to his temple, and then he moves them down, covering his face. His shoulders are tight. “I thought - but.” He gets up. “I know.”

Zayn’s out of the room before Liam can think of anything else to say. He sits there, staring at the door. He hadn’t expected the conversation to go that way.

A door right at the end of the hallway slams shut, instead of the one to the master bedroom right next to his office.

* * *

_help_ Liam sends to Niall, the only person he knows who advises first and moralises later. 

 _what did u do._ A full-stop. Liam winces.

_told z we shouldn’t get 2 used 2 things_

_jesus fucking christ, liam_ , Niall sends back. _we told you to TALK_

_now what_

His phone stays silent for over two minutes, and then: _he’s been your best friend for 20 years_ , Niall texts. _fuckin think._

Okay, Liam thinks. Niall is right, he knows Zayn better than he knows anyone else. So what were the boys seeing that he wasn’t?

He’d started out loving Zayn. And then he’d kissed him a bit, and started liking him a little more than that. And then they’d started building a home and having amazing sex and kissing a lot, and it’s come to be even more than that. Zayn’s always been a part of his life, but over the last few months he’s slotted himself in to the point of inextricability.

Maybe a part of him is resisting this out of fear, out of knowing that if they keep going the way they’re going, he’s going to leave this relationship with a broken heart. Because he recognises, now, this fluttery, panicky feeling: nauseating with the force of it, impressive and heart-stopping in its scale.

And this is what he thinks he hadn’t considered properly, before: Why wouldn’t Zayn maybe start to feel the same as he does?

Zayn had definitely loved him, too, at the beginning; that he’s never doubted. And he’d also: initiated kissing when there’d been no one to sell it to. He’d given up some of his time alone. He’d touched him, sought him out when there’d been no need for it. Looked forcibly impassive when Liam had told him they shouldn’t get too into it. If he’s taking this at face value, he knows. This isn’t just Liam.

Liam’s always thought of this as having an endpoint - that one of them would lose the house, that one of them could get too involved, that one of them would need to find someone else. Why can’t they do this forever?

Why shouldn’t this be it?

* * *

The next morning he calls in sick at work and then sets up office in his kitchen.

Zayn walks in around noon, and, when he sees Liam, spins around and leaves.

“Zayn!” Liam calls, running after him. He stops at the doorway between the kitchen and the dining space - where they’d kissed the first time, meaning it.

Zayn turns around. “Liam.”

“I’m sorry,” Liam says. “I panicked.” He’s panicking now, too - his heart is racing - but he knows he has to try; knows to ask for things he wants, things he thinks he deserves.

Zayn watches him, his face guarded.

“I didn’t realise we’ve basically been dating,” Liam says, and charges on when Zayn looks down. “And I didn’t realise that was what I wanted. Because I want that. And I got scared, because I thought I was getting ahead of myself, and I was thick, I’m so dense, I’m sorry.”

“You, uhm,” Zayn starts, looking cautiously hopeful, and then clears his throat. “You want that?”

“Zayn,” says Liam, taking a step closer. “You’re my best friend - ”

Zayn flinches, but Liam grabs for his hand before he can move further away, squeezing so he doesn’t lose this spurt of courage. 

“ - and I’m kind of in love with you.”

He waits, keeping his eyes on Zayn.

“And Loki is going to hate me if I make him lose you and Harley,” he adds, when he sees Zayn’s mouth twitch in amusement.

Zayn tilts his head, staring at their hands, and then he starts to laugh, his ridiculous, dorky laugh, twisting his hand in Liam’s grip so their fingers can lock. “I’m kind of, that. Too,” he says.

Liam almost starts swaying on the spot, trying not to keel over in relief, and Zayn wraps his arm around his back, keeping him upright. He kisses Liam’s cheek, then nose, then other cheek, but pulls back when Liam reaches for his mouth.

“I didn’t think,” Zayn says. “I didn’t think this would happen, that this would be a problem for me, but - ”

“But then you kissed me,” Liam says, smiling wide. He pulls Zayn into a hug, moving both of them forward until Zayn’s backed up against the wall by the kitchen arch.

“But then _you_ ,” Zayn corrects. “Do you know the way you look at me sometimes? Like you want to - ”

“Kiss you? Devour you?” Liam suggests. Zayn is shaking a bit, like he’s vibrating with joy. Liam understands. Under his cheek, where he’s resting his head on Zayn’s chest, he can hear the unsteady beat of Zayn’s heart. Under his hand, where he’s slipped it under Zayn’s t-shirt, he can push Zayn closer into him. He wonders if Zayn would shiver if he lets his fingers brush across his back.

“Live with me,” Zayn finishes instead. “Keep being with me.”

He does shiver.

“I do. I want that too.” Liam leans back, straightening so they’re eye-to-eye. “I have a proposition - ” Liam pauses, and then grins. “I have a proposal for you.”

Zayn cracks up, his eyes bright and fond, and doesn’t stop even when Liam presses his mouth against his.

* * *

There’s no one he’d rather do this with, still.

“Did you really take a day off work today for me,” Zayn says. He’s crossed-legged on the floor, propped up against the center counter in the kitchen, Liam’s head on his lap. 

“I had to make a point.” Liam makes a face up at him when Zayn reaches to tousle his hair. “I knew you’d come down when you were ready. Did Louis really tell you to be careful?”

Zayn sighs. “After that night we went bowling?”

Liam remembers. “You think we should’ve known when we started kissing after every strike?”

“No shit.” Zayn snorts, leans down and kisses him, and stays bent over him when they pull apart, still smiling. “Kids.”

“Two, first in my old room,” Liam says. “Wedding.”

“ _Spring_ ,” Zayn says loudly, even before the word is out of Liam’s mouth. “We said spring!”

Liam laughs, and when he opens his eyes again, Zayn’s watching him, the fondest look in his eyes, the sweetest tilt to his mouth.

“First date?” Liam asks, his voice soft. It feels a little like his breath’s been knocked out of him. Maybe he should start getting used to it.

“We can go out now and make out at the back of a cinema,” Zayn suggests. He presses his thumb against the corner of Liam’s eye, drags it down to the curve of his chin.

“Yeah,” Liam says, distracted already. “Come here.” He pulls Zayn back down, closing the little distance between them.

“I’m here,” Zayn replies, sliding his hand down to Liam’s chest, and kisses him back.

* * *

They get married in May. 

Their parents tell them, years later, that they’d looked for Liam for an hour that first night, when Liam had been six and sneaked into a room with an Iron Man door. They found them both sleeping on the ground, a blanket tucked into their sides, with a pile of comic books between them. Liam’s always found it difficult to sleep in places that wasn’t his own, but he’d had no trouble then.

That’s what Liam says, whenever he’s asked to tell their story. It took him twenty years, he’ll say, to realise that he still thinks of Zayn - always thinks of Zayn - as home.

The rest of that story, they don’t really tell anyone.

**Author's Note:**

> I only recently realised that writing fic means that all the fic tropes I want to see, _I can make happen_. What I mean, of course, is that outsider POV fics are everything to me, and I can see exactly how they'd fit in this universe, so I'm probably going to do that. as a follow-up. just to fill in some of the blanks.
> 
> Desi references from being a desi girl myself - most of it's understandable in context, I think. _Yeh Ladka Hai Allah_ is a song from the movie _Kabhi Kushi Kabhi Gham_ , and it roughly translates to, "this boy, oh god, _this boy_ ".
> 
> You can find me now on [tachycardiafic](http://tachycardiafic.tumblr.com) @ tumblr, which I'm hoping to make more fic-centric. Let's see how that goes.


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